Chicken Soup for the Soul
by Trish47
Summary: One-shot where Elliot confronts Olivia about what happened at Sealview after helping her to get back to reality with some TLC. EO friendship mostly. A little angst, a little fluff. Enjoy and please review.


Disclaimer: Dick Wolf owns everything, not me. How unfortunate.

Summary: Just another interpretation of how Olivia comes clean to Elliot about what happened in Sealview. EO friendship mostly.

Note: This is my first SVU fic, and I'm only admitting it because I want some feedback. Please tell me if you think I have any right to be writing for this show. Have I got it all wrong? Right? Reviews are greatly appreciated and I'll take all kinds of comments. If there's something I need to fix, tell me. If it was great, tell me. If it was crap, tell me! Please? and Thank you! Now, enjoy.

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**Chicken Soup for the Soul  
**

The wall was her friend.

It was cold, hard and silent—just what she needed. Olivia's world was unstable and threatened to overwhelm her at any moment. But with her inanimate friend as her pillar, she thought she would be able to hold it together.

"Who am I kidding?" she said out loud as she leaned into the wall's unloving embrace. The truth was she was barely holding it together and she knew it. She'd gone to see a shrink, after all. It was hard to talk about her attack and a part of her wanted to put off another session with the doctor.

There was no need for her to talk about the attack with the wall. The wall didn't pressure her to acknowledge what had happened in that basement. And when she got angry the wall didn't care how many times she punched it, not even when her blood marred its white surface.

The wall understood. The wall got it.

The person knocking on the other side of her door didn't get it. Couldn't. That's why she didn't get up to answer the door, why she ignored her vibrating cell phone on the coffee table. She couldn't see _him_ because then she could have to admit that it was all real and not just some horrible nightmare.

No, she couldn't answer to all of that, not right now. Olivia pressed herself more closely to the wall, hoping the knocker would leave if he saw there were no lights on in her apartment.

"Liv? You in there?"

Elliot was just trying to be polite; he knew she was there. His tone told her as much.

Her partner knocked again, more forcefully. His message, his mood, was sent through the vibrations—a kind of Morse code they had developed unconsciously with each other over the course of their partnership. From the way he was pounding on the door now, Olivia knew that he was worried about her.

She felt guilty for excluding him from her problem, something she never used to do. But this time it was different. Reliving the events at Sealview would only bring her more nightmares. If she told Elliot, her night-terrors would be haunted by his reaction too.

Of course, there was also the issue of maintaining her dignity in front of her partner. She knew if she opened her door to him, there was no hope of keeping that dignity, even the little she had left.

And yet, she knew she couldn't keep her door closed to him forever.

Olivia had no recollection of standing up. Exactly when she had moved to stand next to the door was lost on her. She was angry that her body would betray her in such a way. Still, the presence of another human life, and a familiar one at that, was too appealing to ignore completely.

Elliot knew that his partner could hear him, that she was probably listening to his fist banging against the door with a mixture of horror and contempt. He knew she hated a scene, especially in her building.

"Olivia, open up," he ordered gently, sensing that she was standing on the other side, probably cursing him with the phrases they had picked up on the job.

"I don't wanna kick your door down, but I will if you don't answer me," he threatened.

Although she was horrified by the possibility, a small, fleeting smile drew across her mouth. Slowly she unlocked the door, her fingers numb to the metal surface they rested on. Once she had turned the lock she paused, gathering all the strength she could muster and setting her lips in a determined scowl. Olivia's goal was to get him to go away before he could do any major damage to her fragile mental state.

Her partner surprised her by not opening the door and letting himself in.

Just as he was about to open the door, it creaked open.

"You could've just used your key," he heard her grumble. "No need to make empty threats."

He pushed the door open the rest of the way and followed her retreating voice into the center of the dark apartment.

"I'd never barge in without permission," Elliot remarked. They both knew it was a lie.

It took Elliot a moment to adjust to the foreign territory of Olivia's apartment. He had been there on numerous occasions and had normally felt at home. He knew the layout of her kitchen, where her utensil drawer was. But now he was on an alien planet and he was momentarily stunned into silence.

Stale air mixed with the faint odor of Chinese food indicated that Olivia hadn't left her home in a few days. The apartment was a mess, especially the living room area. His kids' rooms were cleaner. That observation concerned him, but not as much as her appearance.

She was standing just a few feet from him and it was the most disheveled he had ever seen her. Stains dotted her sweatpants and t-shirt. Her hair looked unwashed and wild. There were bags under her eyes and her very posture revealed how tired she was. She looked utterly defeated.

Olivia knew she was in trouble the moment he set foot in the apartment. His eyes saw too much. The way those blue orbs were looking at her right now made her want to crawl under a blanket and hide. His assessing stare caused a flush of embarrassment to heat her cheeks. It had been a bad idea to let him in.

Finally realizing that he was staring at her, Elliot held up the brown paper bag in his hand.

"Brought you something to eat," he said.

Her blank eyes fell on the bag and then returned to his face.

"You didn't have to do that. I can feed myself," she replied, defensive as usual.

"If you count dialing takeout as feeding yourself, then sure." He smiled at her glare. There was still some fire in those brown eyes, but it sputtered out too quickly for his liking.

Olivia didn't know what to do about her partner. It would be rude to tell him he wasn't welcome. She didn't want to talk right now, especially not to Elliot. She wasn't sure she could withstand his sympathy. The food was already too much.

"Look, um, now's not really a good time," she stammered quietly.

"No time like the present," Elliot quoted as he stared her down with his calm grin. He wasn't going to give up as easily as she wanted him to.

"You woke me up," she lied.

He shook his head, "No I didn't."

"Huh? How—"

"You haven't slept since Cragen ordered you to take a vacation. Admit it."

She wouldn't give him what he wanted. "Yes I have," was her lame retort.

"Napping on the couch doesn't count," he qualified.

His head shifted in the direction of her bedroom and Olivia's head followed his gaze. She knew he could see that her bed was undisturbed. Elliot lifted his eyebrows in a questioning manner.

"You need to take care of yourself, Liv."

He was starting to get to her. She didn't think she deserved his concern. More importantly, she didn't want it.

"I'm trying," she told him, hating how her voice shook. "I'll get by El, and I don't need you to rescue me. I can handle the situation."

"I don't doubt you can. But sometimes you need more than just yourself."

"Well if I need your help I'll ask for it, okay?"

She was trying to get rid of him, but Elliot wasn't ready to leave. He knew she was in a tight spot, he just didn't know why. He put the brown bag on the kitchen counter and walked over to her.

Elliot felt her shudder when he laid his hands on her shoulders, but he wouldn't let her pull away. She stiffened and for the briefest moment Elliot thought he saw fear flash across her eyes. It was gone too quickly for him to understand it. Suddenly she looked like she might cry. God he hated seeing her like this. This was not the Olivia Benson that he had been with for close to eleven years.

"Let me help you."

"El, I…you don't…" She couldn't come up with any kind of plausible argument. Her gaze had fallen and stayed glued to his chest. They stood for several moments in silence. He could practically see the war going on inside her head.

"Alright," her whisper was so low he hardly heard it, but when he got her confirmation relief surged through him.

He squeezed her shoulders in encouragement. "Okay, first let's get you cleaned up."

"Why?" she asked, confirming in Elliot's mind how out of it she really was.

"Because you stink," he told her gently, hoping she would laugh at the joke. She didn't. Instead she glanced down at her soiled clothing and ran a hand through her greasy hair.

"Oh yeah," she exclaimed having forgotten how terrible she looked. Her cheeks flushed red in embarrassment. "I've been a little lax in the laundry department. And personal hygiene."

"That's okay," Elliot tried to assure her. "Why don't you go take a shower? I'll heat up the soup I brought and clean up."

Olivia nodded but didn't move. Her partner had to lead her to the bathroom and turn on the shower before she snapped out of her haze enough to function.

"I've got it from here," she told him, watching the water pour out of the showerhead.

"You sure?" It was a serious question.

"El…"she began in a flustered voice when he wouldn't leave. Her cheeks had turned pink again.

"Don't be long," Elliot warned her. He shut the bathroom door when she started to remove her t-shirt.

The sound of the door closing made her jump; she sighed, disgusted with herself for being so tense.

"What happened to keeping my composure?" she asked herself. In answer to her own question she breathed, "Elliot."

Olivia finished undressing, put her dirty clothes in a hamper, and stepped into the shower. As she scrubbed and washed her hair and body, she noticed that her hands were shaking.

"Come on Olivia," she mumbled into the water, "Hold it together."

Elliot busied himself in the kitchen, cleaning up while the soup warmed in the microwave. Olivia wasn't the best housekeeper, but her apartment was usually presentable. Now he was stuffing take-out cartons in the trash and brushing crumbs off the couch. And was that blood on the wall? He'd have to remember to look at her knuckles. These observations paired with her actions and shaken demeanor, told Elliot something was seriously wrong.

His partner was acting like a victim.

He looked at the clock. She'd been in the shower for a half hour. Concerned, he went and knocked at the door to check on her.

"Liv?" he called. "Your soup's gonna be cold."

Elliot received no answer and his heart thumped with fear. Immediately he went into cop mode.

"I'm coming in," he announced loudly, hoping she'd yell at him to stay out. Turning the doorknob, he walked into the steamy room. Two steps later he was at the shower, grabbing the curtain and yanking it back.

Olivia was sitting on the shower floor, her knees pressed up against her chest while water rained down on her body. She looked up at him with such a pathetic expression that his heart ached to help her. She just looked so hurt, so lost. Elliot shut off the water.

"Do you always interrupt women's showers?" She tried to sound casual but completely failed when tears rolled down her cheeks. Elliot smiled for her sake, but it only caused her to let out a sob.

Olivia bit her lip to try and stop herself from crying, but her emotions won the battle over her sensibility.

"Here," she heard Elliot whisper roughly. Through her bleary eyes she could see him offering her a towel. His kindness was her undoing.

"Stand up," he instructed as he spread the towel and turned his head away out of respect more than anything else. The temptation to look at his partner's naked body was overwhelming, but he knew that this was not the time to let his lust to get the best of him.

Slowly she complied, taking the towel from him with shaky hands and wrapping it loosely around herself. "Thank you," she said, finally gaining control over her tears. "I'm gonna put some clothes on."

"Good idea," he said more to himself than Olivia. He turned back to her before she had fully secured the towel around her body, catching a glimpse of her nude form and he stood frozen for a moment, unable to rip his eyes off her.

Her sad brown eyes were what finally drew him back to reality and squelched the fire in his stomach.

Elliot looked at her and was at a lost for comforting words. He wasn't the one who excelled at soothing the victims, Olivia was. Now that his partner was the one with the problem he didn't know what to do.

"El, you need to let my arm go."

He hadn't even realized that he was holding onto her. Dropping his hand to his side, he started to apologize, but she had brushed past him and closed the door to her bedroom before he could speak. Elliot walked back out into the kitchen.

A few moments later Olivia emerged from her room wearing a pair of comfortable sweatpants and a clean t-shirt. She noticed that her living room and kitchen were considerably cleaner than when she had gone into the shower. She smiled at Elliot who was putting soup into a bowl for her. He smiled back but looked uneasy.

A satisfying, warm feeling spread over her body as she ate the soup. Chicken noodle was her favorite and the contents of her bowl were gone in minutes. Elliot gave her the other half of the container he had brought which Olivia didn't object to. She hadn't eaten anything substantial for a few days. Her partner was watching her with a bemused expression, making her think that he enjoyed seeing her stuff her face until she would be sick.

"If I'd have known you'd be that hungry, I would've brought more."

She smiled briefly. "Thank you," she said, feeling ten times better than she had just an hour ago. Elliot had that effect on her, most of the time. With her stomach full and her body clean and warm, Olivia's eyelids started to droop. They were heavy with exhaustion, but she continued to fight the feeling.

Getting up, she put her bowl and spoon in the sink before stumbling over to the couch. Elliot followed her and sat in a recliner a few feet away. He knew she needed to sleep, but he had a feeling that she wouldn't cave easily.

There was nothing but infomercials on given the late hour. Olivia was slipping into her bubble again, closing herself off from the world around her. Even Elliot's presence faded into the background. Her limbs felt heavy and she was sinking into the couch. Her eyes closed.

And _his_ face was there, wicked and horrible and dangerous. She was on the cot, helpless. The scream built in her throat. Harris was touching her….

Someone was shaking her. When her eyes snapped open Elliot's face was staring back at her. Worry was etched across his face and his eyes searched hers for answers that she wasn't willing to give.

"Liv," he said, "you're okay. It was just a nightmare."

Olivia actually laughed. That sound surprised both of them and she laughed harder.

"What's so funny?" he asked, confused.

"Absolutely nothing," she stated, sobering immediately and looking down at her lap.

"You're acting really strange," he told her. "What's going on with you?"

"I don't want to talk about it." Olivia pushed herself off the couch and walked away from him. She stood in front of her wall, noticing that the blood stains had been wiped down, but their outline remained.

"Damnit Olivia, I'm tired of hearing that excuse!"

Olivia shot him a glare. "Why can't you just drop it? Some things you don't need to know."

Elliot was angry now, but he tried to rein it in. Being angry wouldn't help her. "You're my partner. If something's going on with you, I need to know about it."

She was silent. Olivia knew that he was right. As her partner he had a right to know, especially since her attack could affect her work. So far she had done a good job of keeping her problem and her job separate, but it was only a matter of time before they became intertwined. Still, she could not find the words to tell Elliot everything he needed to hear.

He could tell that she was shutting up inside herself. Determined to get some kind of answer out of her, Elliot decided to switch topics, hoping it would confuse her into giving him some information.

"All I want to know is why you're afraid of your bed," Elliot prompted, knowing that whatever issue she was having was probably tied into her irrational and newly developed fear.

"I'm not afraid of my bed," Olivia responded, although she didn't sound so sure.

"Oh yeah?" he prodded.

"I'll show you," she boasted, thinking that if she could prove it was true Elliot would leave her alone.

"Okay. Show me," he challenged, curious to see how she would react.

"Fine," she huffed.

Walking away from him again, she stormed in the direction of her bedroom. Elliot followed.

When they reached the doorway she paused. He thought she was giving up before she had even tried, but she pushed through whatever invisible barrier held her at the door and moved over to the bed. Elliot watched her with caring eyes.

Her resolve to prove herself quickly depleted as she stared at the bed. In her mind she knew that her fear was unwarranted, silly even. There was no reason that she should be afraid to sleep in her own bed. Right now she couldn't even bare to touch it. Still, she tried.

Elliot saw how much her hand shook when she reached out to touch the comforter. She was trying to show him that she could be strong, that she didn't need his help, but she was failing in her attempt.

Suddenly he regretted challenging her. He was about to go over to her and tell her to forget about it, that it wasn't important, that she didn't need to prove herself to him, but she started speaking.

"It was a cot in Sealview. Not a bed," she clarified as though he knew what she was talking about. "I shouldn't be afraid of my bed El."

Her hand had not left the comforter. It was as though touching the fabric allowed her to talk about what had happened; it anchored her. Still, as she spoke her voice shook with emotion, both anger and sadness.

"I couldn't do anything but scream. He was armed. I was in handcuffs. When I tried to fight back, he hit me…said he'd kill me. I didn't care at that point, I just tried to get away…I-I couldn't. He would've raped me."

Rape? Elliot tried to picture what she was saying but it was difficult because his head was spinning with a million different questions. He had read the file about the undercover operation at Sealview, but none of this was in the report. His partner had been assaulted and nearly raped but nobody had thought it important enough to tell him?

Olivia continued, "If Fin hadn't come—"

Elliot's ears zoned in on the name. "Fin knew about this?" He was livid and his voice didn't hide it. Now he felt like punching something. Something like Fin's face.

Olivia finally looked up at him, retracting her outstretched hand. "Don't be mad at him. I asked him not to say anything. Even Cap doesn't know. Well, not everything."

Her words didn't calm him as much as her teary eyes. "How could you keep this from me?" he asked, slightly breathless as he tried to control his anger.

"It's not the easiest thing to talk about," she said. "But now you know. There's nothing you can do about it, so don't beat yourself up over it. It's over. It's in the past."

"You and I both know this doesn't just go away."

"No, it doesn't," she agreed solemnly. Elliot knew that she had been suffering for a long time just from looking at her eyes. To have bottled up something like this for so long had taken its toll on his partner.

"Will you do something for me?" she inquired softly.

"Anything," Elliot answered automatically.

"Don't bring this up anymore."

After a moment he nodded. If that's what she wanted, he would give it to her so long as it helped her recover, for now at least. He knew he wouldn't leave the subject alone forever, but he could give her tonight.

"Thank you." With his agreement, Olivia visibly relaxed.

For some reason telling Elliot alleviated her pain and her uneasiness a little. Her emotional store had poured out of her during her confession and now she just felt empty. And tired. God, was she tired.

"Don't fight it."

Elliot's suggestion sounded like such a good idea that Olivia decided to try it. When she tried to go back out into the living room to her couch Elliot blocked her. She looked up at him, her expression asking him why he wouldn't let her by.

"You don't have to be afraid anymore. You aren't in that basement. You're safe."

She stared at him for a few moments with wide eyes. Then she nodded. Elliot was so happy that he could have danced. Instead he helped her turn around and brought her back over to her bed. Slowly she lowered herself, gripping Elliot's hands until they were white. He didn't rush her.

In a few minutes she was laying on her own bed, and although her body was stiff, it was progress.

"You're doing great," he told her. The verbal encouragement made her smile.

Elliot pulled the covers over her and pushed the sides close to her body so she was in a warm cocoon.

"Are you tucking me in?" she asked him, her smile broadening.

He chuckled. "Force of habit I suppose."

Olivia laughed too, the tension in her body slowly dissipating.

Elliot watched sleep settle over her. When he thought she was asleep, he turned to leave.

"What, no bedtime story?" his partner whispered. She was looking at him with soft, barely open, eyes.

"They're not really my specialty, but I'll give it a try," he admitted as he sat down on the edge of the bed. Olivia closed her eyes again as he began to recount the tale of _The Princess and the Pea _which had always been Lizzie's favorite_._

His voice was magic. She felt so safe. There were no faces staring back at her when she shut her eyes. Elliot's voice banished all her demons from her thoughts. She was asleep before he had gotten to the arc of the story. Her breathing was steady and slow.

Elliot wasn't sure how long he sat there just watching her. He half expected her to wake up from another nightmare. That was his excuse for lingering so long; he was worried she would wake up and be scared.

Brown locks of hair had fallen across her face. She looked peaceful and Elliot was filled with a sense of arrogant pride. He had done that. He had helped her. In some small way he had made a difference, which was little compared to everything she had done for him.

"G'night Liv," he whispered, gently brushing the hair off her forehead.

Olivia mumbled contentedly in her sleep.

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End Note: Okay, so please tell me what you thought. Either about the story in general or about my writing or about whatever. I'd really like to know your reactions to this story. I know that this fic is kinda overdone, but I hope it didn't bore you too much. But since I wrote it, I figured I'd put it out there before it gets resolved on the show, which will be soon hopefully! Anyway, thank you for reading!

--Trish


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